Sunday, August 03, 2014

languid resolutions

ACT ONE:

Hector traps the
cylinder between his pout. Gently gripping the filter the way you would hold a
lover’s earlobe between your teeth, applying just enough pressure to
communicate your desire. The flame of the lighter teases the end of the
cigarette to life, like the tip of a quivering tongue, tracing the lines of a
lover’s lips to stimulate a hungry response. He inhales sharply, with a sexy
little hiss. Smoke fills his lungs, like tiny whimpers of pleasure echoing into
the sensual cavern of his wicked mouth. He arches his back slightly and tilts
his head to one side, exposing the muscular curve of his vulnerable throat;
exhale...he smokes slowly. Each time he tilts his head back to exhale, his mouth
stays parted in a small O shape, like he’s frozen in a moment of orgasmic passion.

My hands tighten to fists. I gnash my teeth
and dig my nails into the flesh of my palms. It’s all I can do to stop myself
from pouncing on him… and licking the residue of nicotine from his lips and
fingertips.

Like the carcinogens slowly swirling through
the room, my passing days with him are both intoxicating and delightful. He
becomes my habit.

ACT TWO:

When I slid most of my
cock out I could feel the breeze of the ceiling fan blowing on it, cool from
the drip he coats me with. Then back in, deep, and finally warm again. He
clings to my neck and I kept one hand on his hip and one under his ass,
spreading him open. I pushed up and into him while he presses down and into me
and this is us - fucking, sweating, kissing, all tensing muscle and slight
corner-smiles. Hector takes my earlobe between his lips when he squirms in
orgasm, and when it’s my turn he rolls onto his back and places my cock to his
mouth. With me on my knees over him, he jerks me off until the thick white
bursts out my head and flops onto his face and waiting tongue. He swallows my
cum and my cock and I fuck his face for a moment while the rest seeps out. I
fall back spent and we lay there looking at the ceiling fan, trying to make it
spin backwards with our minds.

ACT THREE:

“Buenas dias.” He says.

“Good morning.” I blink groggily up to him.

I feel you. I see you. I taste you. Through
the hollow stillness I reach out my hand and gently press my fingers against
yours. Elysium greets us with the old familiar smell of swirling white
asphodel. The wind tickles the trees and scatters the playful leaves. I open my
eyes and look down at my arms. In this waking dream the skin is smooth, no
scars. In this waking dream there are no scars. For
now, no more blue tomorrows.

My published works: (Also available on Kindle)

A story of excess and addictions.Click the thumbnail and buy a copy today!

Blew the Shot

Part biography, part horror tale, part touchingly emotional psycho-drama, this intriguing novel weaves up to the appalling incident behind William Burroughs' murder of Joan Vollmer. Click the thumbnail and buy a copy today!

Borrowed Flesh

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hobosexual

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Of Men and Maggots

An on the road romance of two lives on separate paths. Click the thumbnail and buy a copy today!

Tijuana Bebop

A hellish report of postmodern schizophrenia....click on the cover and buy a copy today!

Dark is the Night

A raw and gritty book concerning life's outcasts. Click onto the picture and purchase a copy today from the publisher's secure e-store!

Puta

Fractured romance south of the border. Click the thumbnail and buy a copy today!

Class Conscious Poetry.

Crazy, insane madness - set to verse! You can purchase a copy at the publishers estore by clicking on the pic!

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